Gone Away (14 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
he light from the oil lamp lighted the dark waves of Patricia’s hair as she stitched at the white satin frock stretched across her knees. No sound broke the silence of the room except the incessant hum of insects as they swarmed in their thousands around the glowing bowl of the lamp, and the intermittent call of the monkeys from the distant jungle. Every few minutes Patricia raised her head and listened expectantly, but each time with growing disappointment she returned to her task. There was no welcome chatter of voices, no echo of footsteps, nothing which might herald Maimie’s return. Patricia continued with her task and when it was completed, she put aside her needlework and rose to her feet. Laying the frock carefully over the back of a chair, she crossed the room to the open doorway and stood staring across the verandah into the darkness beyond. With a glance at her wrist
w
atch she shrugged despairingly. Maimie had said she’d be home early, but it was already long past midnight. Of course, she had neither asked nor expected Patricia to wait up for her, but even Maimie, with her characteristic thoughtlessness, could hardly expect her to retire to bed and sleep until she knew her charge to be safely home. Patricia lifted the wedding dress and carried it carefully back to Maimie’s room, and hung it in the cupboard. For a moment her fingers caressed the soft folds of satin before closing the cupboard door. There was something so beautiful, so appealing about the glimmering sheen of the material, the long, drooping folds and the clustering pearls like gleaming drops of water. A wedding dress was, without doubt, different from any ordinary
g
own. It held some mysterious glamour, some mystic meaning, low beautiful Maimie had looked!

If only the beauty of that wedding dress were symbolic of the beauty to come, if only Maimie’s radiance was exemplifying the radiance of her future life! Patricia returned to the lounge and seated herself in an armchair. Anyway, Seymour hadn’t phoned; she had been saved the necessity of uttering that despicable lie. With an irritable movement she swept her sewing materials back into their box. Suddenly she paused, then sure that her ears had not deceived her, she hurried thankfully toward the door. In a moment all her irritation against Maimie had left her. At last she was home—ridiculously late, but that didn’t matter. With eager steps Patricia crossed the verandah and descended the wooden steps into the garden to greet the arrivals. Abruptly she stood stockstill and with an unconscious movement pressed her hands to her heart, as if by pressure she could still its swift and uncontrollable beating. She stared through the warm darkness. Surely her eyes had tricked her ... it couldn’t be
...
it couldn’t! With throbbing pulses she remained rooted to the spot as a solitary figure advanced with quickened strides towards her—not two figures; one only, and that one—Seymour! With a tremendous effort Patricia regained her composure, and although her knees still felt unable to support her, her voice was clear and steady.

“We thought you couldn’t get back tonight. You said you’d be away until morning.”

With a friendly gesture Seymour slipped his arm through hers, and Patricia allowed him to lead her back toward the lighted room. “Do at least try to sound pleased to see me!” Seymour s voice was lightly teasing. “I hoped my appearance might be a delightful surprise.” His tone became more serious. “When I began to think things over I couldn’t bear the idea of you girls alone in the bungalow all night. It worried me so much that I decided to ignore my host’s pressing invitation and good advice, and risk the journey. It was pretty bad; worse than I anticipated. I’ve had to go miles out of my way; the usual road is completely impassable. I’m jolly glad to be back safely, I can tell you.”

Patricia could not trust herself to speak; she merely nodded her understanding. Her mind was in chaos, and her thoughts seemed to be whirling in circles. Seymour followed her into the lounge and crossed to the sideboard. “I know I need a drink. I’ve been driving for five solid hours. I’m dead beat.”

“Let me get it for you.” Patricia was glad of any occupation, and urging Seymour into a chair, she busied herself mixing a drink while she tried to control her agitation.

“Where’s Maimie? In bed, I suppose?”

The dreaded question had come, and she was grateful at least that it needed no direct answer. Nodding her head, she bent lower over the tumbler to hide the guilty flush that rose to her cheeks.

“Why on earth are you up so late?” he questioned as he took the glass from Patricia’s outstretched hand.

“I really don’t know. I hadn’t realized it was so late.” Patricia s
m
iled to cover her embarrassment.

“Disgraceful hour!” Seymour’s eyes smiled into hers above the rim of his glass. “Aren’t you going to join me in a drink?”

“No, I don’t think I will, thanks.” Patricia turned away and wandered slowly across to the door. What would happen if Maimie returned now? The
q
uestion kept hammering in her brain. Much as she had longed to hear her return before, now she prayed that something, anything, might happen to delay it. If only she could urge Seymour to his room, get him safely out of the way, she would then be able to wait outside and warn Maimie. She musn’t come back yet. Oh, God, don’t let it happen! Please, please keep her away! The prayer trembled on her lips.

“What are you looking at? Come over here and talk to me,” Seymour suggested. “You don’t seem to realize what a wretched journey I’ve had. I’m longing for companionship and sympathy!”

Patricia came back into the room and seated herself opposite her companion. “I think you ought to hurry up with that drink and get to bed. You must be quite exhausted, and I suppose you’ll be up with the lark as usual.
”
She forced a note of jocularity.

“This drink has refreshed me. I feel wide awake again now. The last few miles of the journey I thought I’d fall asleep at the wheel, but at the moment I feel the last thing in the world I require is rest.” He finished the contents of his glass appreciatively.

Patricia’s heart sank. This was awful! She must get him out of the way somehow. She twisted the corners of her handkerchief nervously in her fingers. “If you’re not tired, I am, and I think it’s time we both retired. You have to be up so early.”

“Don’t go for a few minutes.” Seymour rested his hand for a moment on her arm as she made to rise. “Just another five minutes.” He paused as his eyes followed hers. “Did you think you heard something? You seem to be listening.”

“No ... of course not.” Patricia dragged her eyes away from the dark square of the doorway. She had thought she’d heard something, but with relief she found herself mistaken. Her nerves were on edge; she wanted to shout, to scream. Seymour seemed blissfully unaware of her dilemma, which was fortunate, but surely he must sense how much she wanted to be rid of him.

“What’s the matter? You seem worried about something.” Seymour’s blue-grey eyes searched hers. “There isn’t anything wrong, is there?”

With an effort Patricia strove to calm herself. This was getting worse and worse. At any moment now he might begin to realize the strain she was undergoing. She made a supreme attempt to smile. “Of course there isn’t anything wrong. It’s very late, that’s all. I’m never good at polite conversation after midnight,” she joked, while
her heart grew heavier and heavier and her nerves more tense with each passing minute.

Seymour rose reluctantly to his feet. “Don’t let me keep you up; you must be tired. Be an angel and get me another drink. I’ll just glance through the paper and then get to bed myself.”

Patricia picked up his empty glass and approached the sideboard. What on earth should she do? It was nearly one o’clock; Maimie must surely be back any moment now. She splashed the soda into the glass until it nearly overflowed. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m afraid I’ve drowned it.”

“That’s all right.” Seymour smiled kindly. “You do seem tired and out of sorts. I’ve never seen you so put out.” He took her hand as he placed the drink on the table beside him. “Get to bed, Patricia. I shouldn’t have made a nuisance of myself turning up at this hour of the night, and expecting you not only to make conversation, but to mix me drinks! Good night, my dear. Sleep well.”

Patricia stood irresolute, then, controlling the tremor in her voice, made one last appeal. “Won’t you go to bed too? Then we can turn out the lamp and lock up
...
and all that
...
” She broke off lamely, almost shivering in her nervousness.

For a second Seymour’s eyes stared curiously at her. “You certainly seem to want to get rid of me,” he laughed. “Anyway, you want me to go to bed, and if that’s all you need, to please you I won’t argue any more.” He emptied his glass. “There, see how obedient I am. I’ll go to bed at once. You take the lamp into your room, and I’ll lock up now.”

“I’m sure you ought to,” Patricia murmured, hoping to explain her attitude. “You have to be up so early,” she reiterated. “Let me help you with the bolts.” She could scarcely hide the relief she felt at his decision. Once Kay was in his room she could easily slip out and undo the door, meet Maimie at the gateway, and all would be well. The door fastened satisfactorily, Seymour straightened himself up. Then, with an impulse which he was wholly unable to resist, he turned to her and cupped her face between his two hands, and his eyes searched hers.

“Patricia, dear
...
there’s something I must say to you, something you must know. Those days we had together in London, they seem such ages ago now, and after you disappeared I tried my best to find you, but in London
...
you can imagine how impossible it was.” He drew her unresisting figure closer to him.
“
In my despair I turned back to Maimie. I’m pledged to her now, and
I
couldn’t go back on my word, but please believe that I loved you then and—God forgive me—I love you still.” His voice sounded hollow and distracted. “But, you see, Maimie depends on me. I couldn’t let her down. You do understand, don’t you?”

With eyes brimming over with tears, Patricia returned the ardor of his look. “It was partly my fault. I let you kiss me. I love you too, Kay; I always
w
i
l
l. But you belong to Maimie, and we must both forget.” She released herself from his hands, and made a supreme effort to control the trembling of her voice. “Maimie loves you. I’m sure you’ll be very happy. Kay, you and I
must
be sensible. Promise me.” She smiled, up at him wanly.

“You’re right, Pat. I promise you. But you really think that Maimie cares? Sometimes I’ve wondered about Claud
...
she enjoys his company tremendously; that’s obvious to everyone.”

“That’s just a shipboard friendship
...
” Patricia faltered and the sudden memory came back to her that Claud and Maimie were still out. She must get Kay out of the way before they returned. Trusting he would not notice how cold her hand was, she placed it in his, then turned swiftly away. It must be all right now. She hoped he would fall asleep quickly, and now she came to think of it, it might not be necessary to unbolt the front door; she could easily gain access to the garden through her bedroom window and, once having intercepted Maimie’s arrival, she could get her back into the bungalow in the same way.

Patricia quickly sought the privacy of her room and crossed to the window. It gave access to a porch, divided from the garden by a low rail. It really was simple, and what was better still, from her window she got a splendid view of the road, and would easily be able to stop Maimie before she betrayed her presence by arriving along the main path. With trembling fingers Patricia slipped off her frock, her eyes still glued to the roadway while she continued her disrobing. It was better to be undressed, for if by any chance Seymour should reappear she would at least look as though she were preparing for bed. Reaching out for her dressing gown, she pulled it on and slipped her bare feet into mules. Stepping on to the porch, she leaned her arms on the rails and gave her full attention to the gravel drive. As the minutes slipped by she still kept watch. Seymour must be asleep by now
... W
hen Maimie found Seymour was home, perhaps it would teach her a lesson. Patricia smiled at the idea. Lessons for Maimie wouldn’t be necessary any more; in a week she would be married, and presumably settled down to a life free from such adventures.

The distant purr of a car caused Patricia to start. With a bound she was over the low rail and running as fast as her feet would carry her across the intervening garden. Maimie at last! With a slight screech of brakes the car drew up, and Maimie and Claud descended and made their way toward the bungalow. Panting from her exertions, Patricia approached them.

“There you are at last!” She could scarcely speak in her excitement. “You must come this way
...
through my window. Seymour has arrived home. I let him believe you had been in bed for hours. He’s gone to his room.
I
had a difficult job to get him there, but I should think he must be asleep by now.”

Maimie lifted the flowing skirt of her evening dress and obediently followed her friend. While they were crossing the sun-dried lawn she spoke in eager whispers. “Seymour home! Heavens, I never believed he’d turn up tonight
...
he was so definite on the phone. Thank goodness you warned us!” She gave a low giggle. “We were just preparing to enter the front door with all the confidence in the world! Supposing Seymour had heard us and made an unexpected entry into the lounge. I should have died of fright!”

“Are you sure you can get in through your window?” Claud muttered uncomfortably as he followed the two girls. “It all seems so absurd. Our outing was quite harmless; surely Warinder wouldn’t raise any objection?”

Patricia urged him to silence. “He’d be furious with Maimie, and you know it!” she accused him. Without turning round, she picked her way carefully over the uneven ground. “I don’t know why you are coming at all; you’d do far better to go to the car and get home; we are quite all right alone.”

“Like to see you safely in,” Claud murmured uncomfortably. “The whole thing’s ridiculous.”

“I think it’s marvellous of Pat to have warned us!” Maimie rebuked Claud gently. “Oh, I can easily get over that,” she added, as they reached the low railing surrounding the porch. She turned to Patricia. “Get over first and give me a hand; this long dress is going to be a bit of a nuisance.”

Patricia held up her dressing gown and with the greatest of ease swung her legs across the rail. “Here, I’ll take your hands,” she suggested an
d
, gripping Maimie firmly, helped her over. When they were standing side by side outside the long windows of the bedroom, Patricia turned to Claud. “Now say good night quickly and for heaven’s sake make you
r
self scarce, she whispered.

“All right, I’ll go. I
...
” He bit off his words as Patricia frantically signalled to him to keep quiet.

“What was that? I thought I heard
.
..
” Patricia stopped, and, before Maimie could realize what was happening, Patricia had pushed her forcibly through the bedroom window and out of sight. Her action had not been a moment too soon. The slatted blind
h
ad scarcely dropped back into place before Seymour’s tall figure loomed up but of the darkness.

“
I
thought I heard someone. What on earth
...
” He broke off and stared at Claud in perplexity. Patricia felt her eyes drawn, as if by a magnet, to Seymour
’
s face. She saw, with growing fear, his mouth harden and his eyes, show a glint of fiery anger as they turned from Claud to her. “So this was the reason you resented my return, the explanation of your anxiety to get me to my room.
”
Each word cut like a rapier across the silence. “Some things one can understand, but this is beneath contempt! To think I doubted Maimie! To think that I dared suggest Burny’s frequent visits were on her account!” His voice was filled with bitterness. His glance turned from Patricia to Claud.